


Revolutions

by Emmeebee



Series: QLFC Season 5 [22]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, No prophecy, The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeebee/pseuds/Emmeebee
Summary: Born into a world of darkness and tyranny, all Luna wants is to be free. But the path to freedom isn't as straightforward as she thinks.





	Revolutions

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story almost a year ago for the QLFC practice round but never wound up posting it, so here it is. For the last time – written by Chaser 1 of Montrose Magpies.  
> Prompts: Animal Farm; character: Luna Lovegood  
> Word count: 2548  
> This is massively AU.

 

_On 31 October 1981, the Dark Lord visited an unassuming little house in Godric's Hollow and killed a couple for no other reason than that they had defied him. The woman's last thought was relief that their son had gone trick or treating with his godparents and was spending the night at their house. Since the boy's bloodline was valuable, the Dark Lord was content to let him live._

_But there was no cheering in the streets. There was no prophecy. There was no peace._

-x-x-x-x-x-

When Luna was a child, her father lulled her to sleep with tales of the old days. Her favourites were the ones from back before he first heard the name Voldemort; her eyes always lit up at the thought of a world where people were allowed to say and think as they pleased. His stories were so vivid that it almost felt like she was there beside him, tasting the flavoursome delicacies of the Great Feast and hearing the carefree laughter of the students as they unwound for the night. She never told him just how real it seemed to her, knowing that he would feel obligated to once again lecture her on the importance of keeping her imagination hidden. Instead, she closed her eyes and got lost in his descriptions of distant places and times that were and never would be again.

"Remember," he said every morning before she left the house for the least bigoted preschool he could find, "if anyone asks, I have told you nothing. King Voldemort would have both of our heads if he knew about our bedtime stories."

And every morning, after a night spent dreaming of brighter days, she nodded solemnly and vowed to keep their secret. Her body was free, but even at such a young age, she knew that her mind was a caged bird that sung and sung yet never made a noise. She wanted change — wanted to break out of the shackles that restrained them all — but she had no idea how.

She never realised that change could occur without anything changing at all.

-x-

The leathery hide of the Thestral's back was cool to Luna's touch as she ran her hand along its ridged spine. As the creature lifted his proud head to nuzzle her hair, a calm smile spread across the second year's face. Life at the castle was hectic and stressful, and she always had to be on her guard to make sure she didn't reveal too much. She knew that her housemates thought she was crazy, but really, sneaking out was what kept her sane and gave her peace.

"Hullo?" a voice called out, breaking her reverie. She stiffened and draped herself in the layers of Occlumency that her father had insisted she learn before stepping foot at Hogwarts. "Is anyone there?"

Keeping her face deceptively vacant, she stepped out from behind the Thestral to greet the newcomer. To her surprise, it was one of the few half-bloods who had been allowed to attend Hogwarts — a Gryffindor named Harry Potter. His parents had died in the war, leaving him to be raised by the Longbottoms. They hadn't had much contact in the past, but he was one of the few people who didn't tease her or blindly follow the Death Eater agenda.

"Where is 'there'?" she asked. "What is 'there' to me is somewhere entirely different to someone else."

He blinked at her. "Lovegood?"

"Harry Potter."

"What are you doing out here?"

She gestured to the Thestral before remembering that he probably wouldn't be able to see the gentle creature. "Breathing," she said instead.

He nodded as if that made complete sense; as if he genuinely got it. "The castle can be suffocating."

In their world, his openness was a flaw, not a strength. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person could be fatal. Nevertheless, hearing someone other than her or her father express dissatisfaction with the current regime touched something deep inside of her.

In that moment, she knew she would follow him anywhere.

-x-x-x-x-x-

When Luna was a teenager, she and Harry founded the resistance in order to fight for freedom and hope. They had many enemies and few allies, but it was a cause that she was willing to die for — or live for. Whenever their goals seemed impossible or the costs too high, she remembered the longing and grief that seeped into her father's voice whenever he spoke about his childhood and felt her determination renew.

Fortunately, everyone expected her to be unconventional, so no one questioned her when she asked Draco Malfoy about the Death Eaters' politics or spent her nights reading strategy books. They just assumed she was curious about some hypothesis that they didn't care to know. While Harry and the Weasleys had to be careful because it was common knowledge that they only obeyed the law because they had to, she had — without even meaning to — acquired the ability to hide in plain sight. It didn't mean that she was safe; the cage was still there, even if she had worked out how to unclasp the lock, and it was dangerous to leave it too often. But the leeway it gave her — gave  _them_ — was invaluable.

"Breathe," she said whenever the others grew restless and argued to move their timeline forward. "Our goal is to do this right, not to do this fast."

And they did. By the time the war broke out officially the year after she left Hogwarts, they were as ready as they could be — not that they could ever be truly ready for such a thing. The next half a decade was filled with constant struggles that never seemed to have an ending. Every life lost was one too many, and they lost countless.

Until one day, they returned to the castle where they had grown up, and she suddenly realised that they had reached it: the end.

-x-

The Great Hall was silent in the aftermath. One day, people would dare to call that battle final. They would talk about how it was tragic and heartbreaking but, ultimately, necessary. They would point to all the good that had come from it. But in that moment, staring at the place where the leaders of both sides lay, no one knew quite what to say. The air was shocked and tense as they all waited for someone — anyone — to step forward and make sense of a situation in which there was no clear winner and many clear losers. Luna had known that it was unlikely that they would make it out alive, yet she had never imagined that  _Harry_ —

Eventually, a girl with fierce blue eyes stepped forward, her wand grasped tightly in one hand as the other unceremoniously shoved a lock of short black hair out of her face. It took a moment for Luna to place her; it had been years since they had laid eyes on one another. Her name was Sylvie Jones. The daughter of the union between a witch and a Muggle, she was a Hufflepuff whose friends had been captured by the Carrows two months into the war. "It's over," she said. "He's gone.  _Stand down_."

It looked like a few of the Death Eaters were going to protest, but the resistance had them surrounded, and they knew they would be fighting an uphill battle. Instead, one by one, they dropped their wands and raised their hands above their heads in the universal gesture of surrender.

Luna's eyes were moist and her heart was heavy, but the cage was open and they were free.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Throughout Luna's twenties, she was finally able to close her eyes and fly. As her friends set about rebuilding their homeland, she travelled the globe, looking for answers that she might never find but was perfectly content searching for anyway. She encountered new people and places and experienced a wide variety of cultures, and for the first time, she saw what peace could look like. Eventually, she found a quiet little corner of the world and settled there, writing home to her father every week with photos and tales of her adventures and work. She missed him dearly, but they were both where they needed to be — her in Mongolia to heal and research, and him in Ottery St Catchpole to write educational material about the war. She had faith that, one day, those places would align once more. Until then, she would have to content herself with letters and memories.

 _It is lovely here,_ she scratched out onto a piece of parchment as she rested her feet after a long day of hiking.  _If it is possible to be in love with a place, that is what I am. The only thing it doesn't have is you. Oh, I do hope you visit me here someday. You will love it as much as I do. I have started studying Mongolian, but it is a slow process. For the time being, I am using translation spells to get by, but I long for the day when I no longer need them. It is strange to be surrounded by people and not understand a word they are saying._

As she watched the owl fly away the next morning, she started to count down the hours it would take for him to arrive at her childhood home. Given the distance, he would have to stop multiple times along the way, but each major wizarding city had an owlery where he could eat, drink and rest before continuing once more.

It wasn't ideal, but if there was one thing life had taught her, it was that things rarely were.

-x-

Bundled up in layers upon layers of clothing to protect herself from the scorching sun, Luna stood atop one of the tallest sand dunes in Khongoryn Els, her hand resting on her camel's side. Her muscles ached from the gruelling hike, and she could feel the sweat pooling on her face and spine, but it was worth it. The desert stretched out around her in every direction, filling her vision with golden beauty, and the air seemed to vibrate with a droning noise that resembled low singing. Their tour guide had explained that it was the sound of sand being moved by the wind. She didn't understand how it worked, but she would love nothing more than to listen to it all day.

It was, she decided, the most striking place in the world.

At first, she had been nervous about going on a tour with a group of Muggles, but she had come to find it refreshing. There was something special about being among people who had no idea about where she had been or what she had done. It made her feel like she could be and do anything she wanted — the limits were gone.

It was then, on her twenty-ninth birthday, after almost a decade of living in Mongolia, that she decided it was time to return home. She had to see her father. She had to know whether this sense of peace and happiness was coming from inside her or from the world around her. And she had to see the fruits of what she and Harry had planted so many years before.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Luna was almost thirty by the time she returned to England; it had taken her that long to finish her contract and find a new job. But there was no grand sense of coming home. Within a few days of setting foot on English soil, she came to regret not being the first to step forward on that fateful day in 1999 when the battle that was now being called final ended. She could have done it; after the years she had spent leading by Harry's side, the people would have accepted her without a second thought. But she hadn't, and instead, the survivors had rallied around Sylvie Jones, remembering her as the witch who had called for an end to the fighting.

Once upon a time, that would have been a good thing. At school, Sylvie had been self-confident, loyal, and charming. But the war had warped her and turned those traits bad; her mind had strained against the cages that had held her for so long that the bars were imprinted on her flesh, on her very way of thinking. Self-confidence had become inflexibility, loyalty fuelled vengeance, and charm gave her the ability to get away with whatever she wanted. Then she had been handed absolute power and left to figure out what to do with it.

In her attempt to dismantle prejudice and cruelty, she had installed herself as leader indefinitely and banned all traditional pureblood practices. It was now illegal for any pureblood whose family had any connection whatsoever to the Death Eaters to marry another pureblood, and there was talk of expanding the law further. Within the decade Luna had been away, they had managed to betray everything they had once stood for. Things were better, perhaps, but they were far from right.

They had been so focused on avoiding another oppressive pureblood regime that they had started their own.

-x-

Her chest felt tight as she listened to them argue about the best way to roll out the newest bill. It was just taken for granted that it would be approved by whatever passed for their legal system nowadays. Yet, somehow, she was the only one who could see the problem. When she had brought it up with Neville earlier, he had looked uncomfortable but said that it was just the way things were. His response had puzzled her until she remembered the Muggle analogy about the frog in hot water; the changes must have come about so slowly and so insidiously that even Neville hadn't noticed them.

Perhaps people who had grown up swimming in oppression weren't the best people to rework the system. After all, to them, oppression wasn't just the water; it was the whole universe. How could they do any differently when they didn't  _know_  any differently?

She couldn't bring herself to regret leaving all those years ago, but now that she was back, she had a duty to show them that there was another way — that they could dispel the myth of blood purity without becoming the monsters they had once fought to vanquish. This time, she would stay, and she would fight until things were right once more. Then, when her father retired, she would convince him to come home to Khovd with her.

For she had found her answer: The sense of peace had come with her, but the sense of happiness had not. Her heart still lay overseas, and she had every intention of returning for it.

-x-x-x-x-x-

_On 2 April 2011, wizarding Britain became a democracy once more. The road ahead was as long and hard as a hike up a sand dune, but eventually, they found a way to finally cast off the cages that had bound them for so long. The next day, a blonde revolutionary-twice-over and her literary father left the country for the last time._

_There was no cheering in the streets. There was no prophecy. But there was peace._


End file.
